A Moment in Time
by DeniseV
Summary: Starsky's car is on the fritz and he's in a foul mood. Does it lead to a foul up on the job?


"Don't tell me that, Merl. I can't be without my car that long. I'll go crazy riding around in Hutch's dump. Can't ya speed it up?"

"Starsky, I told ya. The part you need is on backorder. Ya can't drive this car around without the new part. You could cause more damage. Now, I'm not gonna stop ya from ridin' around if you're hell bent on doing it. Just means more business for me. Go ahead, take it away."

"Nah, damn it. All right. She's all yours for two weeks. But you'll call if the part comes in sooner, right? Even one day would be a blessin'. Anything to get me outta that piece o' junk sooner."

"You got it, Starsky. I'll call ya when she's ready."

I stood leaning against my car watching this comedy play out in front of me. My partner was practically throwing a fit. He could definitely use some counseling about his car. I've watched it for years, and the fact is that Starsky was going to have to think real soon about replacing the Torino. The car was over nine years old and there was only so much patching up even Merl the Earl could do. The car had been in the shop quite a bit in the last few months, which was a very touchy subject with Starsky right now. He had a short fuse these days, and his irritation factor was about to shoot off the scale.

"Two weeks! Can ya believe that?" You could practically see the steam coming off the top of Starsky's head. It was kind of comical, and I chuckled softly. He heard it.

"Hutch, I am in no mood. This is not funny. Come on, let's get movin'." He slammed the passenger-side door too hard, and it popped open. He grabbed again and slammed it even harder. Again, no luck.

"Starsk, we've been through this before. Firm but kind, firm but kind." He leered at me, but used just the right amount of force this time to get the door to latch.

"Hutch, how can ya make me ride around in a car like this? I could be thrown from the car just by goin' fast around a corner. You'd feel bad if that happened." I'm sure he had no idea the impact of what he was saying. It just about tore my heart out. I would be devastated if that happened, although I knew there was little likelihood. But still…

"You know, Starsk. You're right. Maybe you should wear your seat belt. It would certainly be safer." The look I received from my partner. I wish I had a camera handy sometimes.

"If ya know it's dangerous, why don't ya just get it fixed?" He proceeded to put on the seat belt. The relief I felt…well, I would have the door looked at as soon as I could.

We continued on, Starsky having called to log us in. We were cruising our beat, windows open. It was a beautiful early fall morning, the heat of the summer having given way to some incredible weather the last few weeks. It's a shame my partner's foul mood had not been brightened by the cooler temperatures.

We received a call. "Zebra-three, Zebra-three, 2-11 in progress at 22 Donovan Street." Starsky picked up the mike. "Zebra-three responding to 2-11 at 22 Donovan." He threw the mars light on the roof and we were on our way.

We were familiar with the liquor store and deli on Donovan, and were anxious to answer the call regarding a robbery in progress there. Starsky and I had become friendly with the owners and we drove too fast for the narrow streets of this neighborhood, but we needed to get there quickly. We occasionally would stop there if we were in the area at lunchtime. It was just 8:30 in the morning. They must have been hit just as they were opening.

We removed the mars light and approached quietly, parking on the side street. We both opened our doors quickly and jumped out, Starsky practically strangling himself on the seat beat.

"Shit." He struggled to unbuckle it. We looked at each other and knew the plan without saying a word.

Starsky took the rear and I went in the front. Our usual plan for situations like this was to have one of us go in the back, quietly, while another of us went in the front like a customer. We knew it was a risky proposition; you never knew just how wound up the perpetrators were, and just walking in could be asking for a bullet. But that was rare, and my partner was already in position in the rear of the building before I made my entrance. I trusted Starsky to cover my back.

So, I proceeded in to the store, walking straight to the cold beer cases toward the right side of the store. I was familiar with the set-up, so I knew exactly where to go to make it seem like I was a regular customer. I turned and headed with my twelve pack to the register, seeing the owner, Charlie, and his daughter Evie out of the corner of my eye. I hoped they wouldn't react like they knew me. They looked scared and I thought they would just stand there and wait for me to handle things. I looked back toward the counter when I saw the gun in the hands of the perp. He was probably in his early twenties, and he was real nervous. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at him.

"Put the beer down and get over here with the others." He had his hostages gathered together in the café area of the deli. They were all sitting in chairs around small tables. There were five people, Charlie and Evie and three customers. I walked toward the hostages and saw my partner kneeling behind some boxes at the rear of the store.

"Look, I don't want any trouble. I just want to take my beer and get the hell home." I was trying to get the guy's complete attention to give Starsky a chance to surprise him. He turned to me and, without hesitating, pulled the trigger. The pain was a burning, dull throb. He had shot me in the upper right arm. The bullet had gone straight through, and smashed through the glass of one of the refrigerated cases. I fell back against the case and slid down to the floor. The pain was pretty intense, but at that moment I was more concerned with how Starsky was going to get us out of this mess.

Nothing happened for a while. I couldn't see anything from my position on the floor. Evie came over to me and tried to press her scarf against the wound to stem the blood flow. Her hands were shaking and she wasn't doing much good.

"Just put it around the arm, across the wound, and tie it real tight. If you have anything else to put under it, that would help stop the bleeding." I tried to sound as calm as possible. I didn't think it was a very serious injury, but anything can happen with a gunshot wound.

The guy with the gun said, "What are you, a doctor?" This was good; I might be able to keep him occupied while Starsky got in position.

"I'm not a doctor, but I've had some first aid training. I was gonna be an EMT."

"What's an EMT?" The shooter seemed interested.

"It's an emergency medical technician. They're the people who ride around in those emergency vehicles, they look like ambulances." He was watching me, or rather, he was watching my arm where he shot me. I think I was the first person he ever shot. He seemed mesmerized by his handy work.

I still didn't know where Starsky was. And this guy, although he was talking to me, was definitely nervous enough that he could shoot somebody else. Suddenly, Starsky rose just behind the perp and said menacingly, "Police. Put down your weapon."

The suspect looked at me and said, "You're a cop, aren't ya? You're with him."

Starsky said, "Never mind that. Just drop your weapon."

The perp looked at me again. He had a bad look about him. He wasn't aiming his gun at anybody at that moment; he had it in his hand, pointing down to the floor. If he raised that gun just a little, Starsky was prepared to shoot him.

"Come on, pal. Be smart, drop the gun." I urged him.

He was still standing there with the gun in his hand. "My partner's a good shot and he's fast. You'll never make it. Give up now, without anybody getting hurt, and I promise you'll get the best deal possible. You'll probably be out in a few years, with good behavior." I didn't think he was buying any of it.

"I always got F's in school for behavior." He looked at me, still standing perfectly still. Then a small smirk developed on his face, and he began to raise the gun. It all seemed like slow motion, even though it was over within just seconds.

The gunman tried to turn and shoot at Starsky. Starsky had him shot in the right shoulder and his chest before the guy could raise the gun up enough to do any good. He was dead before he hit the ground. Starsky went to the dead man, removed the gun and felt his carotid, just to make sure. Then he turned to me.

The look on his face was familiar. It hurt him terribly to take a life, even the life of a criminal. It is a horrible thing to have to deal with. As police officers, we go through ongoing training to learn to handle it, but it is still painful when it happens. But at the same moment that I saw that look, Starsky reverted to compassionate, concerned friend and he was in front of me in a flash.

On his way, he grabbed Evie and hugged her quickly. Then he took a look at the job she had done with my arm and removed the scarf. He quickly found some towels under the deli counter and used his belt to tighten them over the wound.

"How does that feel? Is it too tight?"

"It's fine Starsk. I'll be okay."

Some black and whites had arrived and uniformed officers were interviewing the customers and Charlie and Evie. One of the uniforms came up to Starsky. "Do you need an ambulance?" Starsky was in a bad place right then and didn't hear the question. I answered, "Yeah, Mike, we'll need an ambulance and a coroner's wagon. Can you clear these people away from here for now?"

"Sure Sergeant." He gathered the few people left and took them to the far side of the building.

"Starsk." No answer. I reached up and touched his leg and shook it. "Hey, Starsky?" He looked down at me. He was coming back from wherever he went.

"I…I think I killed the guy." I think my partner was in shock.

"Yeah. He was gonna shoot you."

"Nah, I don't…I don't know. I think I might have jumped the gun." I don't think he saw the irony in that particular turn of phrase. He was in too much pain, but there was something else.

"Starsky, can ya help me up?" I thought maybe if I got his mind off of the dead suspect he'd have a chance to snap out of this state he was in.

"Jeez, sorry Hutch. Here, let me get ya in a chair." He helped me into a chair. Then he said, "We need to call Dobey. Gotta tell him about the shooting. It'll be better if I tell 'em about it instead of hearing about it from somewhere else."

"Starsky, what're you talking about? What you did was completely self-defense. It was justifiable, a clean shoot. We don't need to call Dobey. Everyone who is here has surely verified that."

"I think it might not have been. I was so angry, I've been so mad lately. I mighta let that cloud my judgment today. I feel like somethin's not right with this shooting."

I grabbed his arm and pulled him down, forcing him to sit in the chair next to me. "Look at me." His head was down, deep frown lines on his forehead. "Starsk," I said more firmly. I got his attention. I looked into his eyes, the pain I saw was unbearable, especially when it was obviously not justified. I put my left arm on his shoulder, as my right arm was feeling pretty numb at this point. "Listen to me. You've not had a good few weeks and you're not thinking clearly. But you did everything right today. There's not going to be an IA investigation because it was a justifiable shooting. Your actions saved me and five other people. You got the job done, Starsk. Everything's okay."

We heard the ambulance outside and Starsky was back in total control, for the moment. He cleared people and chairs out of the way for the stretcher, and helped ease me onto it. He leaned down and looked me in the eyes. "I'll be right behind ya in your heap. Hey, you're gonna be okay. And Hutch, thanks." I guess what I said actually got through.

I think we'll both be okay.

The End


End file.
